Is it so wrong who we love?

She was expecting me home at 9.
My baby blue,
Who loved me to.
She told me what was hers was mine.
Her hands of silk,
and eyes of pure.
She slept in my arms the night we made love.

From one to another,
Went each day.
Her eyes filled with sin as she shoved.
Going back home to tell her dad who she loved.
Hoping this news wouldn't make them sad.
To look down,
And frown upon her way.
Hoping they have nothing against the gay.

No day i forget how she looked at home.
Her face with streaks,
Her soul at stone.
Kissing her head to help it go by.
My baby girl was hurt,
her body a cry.